Visions of Flour: Running in Salida

We are well into our annual Salida, CO "summer training/escape the Austin heat" trip. We've been here 4 weeks, and we have just less than 2 to go. As always we have had an awesome stay here; cooler temps, afternoon storms, and the daily river plays with our dog Amico. Derick and I are both mountain people by heart; we love Austin but we have to get away and see mountains at least once a year. I have yet to take to the Arkansas river and make it into my own swimming treadmill, but... there's still time!

Yesterday I was out on my 11 mile uphill Tempo run which Derick so kindly assigned to me. The one thing that Salida lacks is a nice long fairly flat dirt path for running. Living in Austin, we forget how spoiled we are with a marked 10 mile dirt path around Lady Bird Lake. It makes it easy to do fast tempo runs, long runs and even recovery runs on a softer surface. Here, there is no shortage of hills but at 7000+ feet, they can get pretty taxing if you are always running up or down. And, given that I am doing Ironman training, at times I need to get the 'miles' in, not just the time. The first long tempo run I did here was out and back 291, a long fairly flat stretch of road. The next week, I took the 12 miles to a treadmill for a softer surface and less pounding. Then Derick discovered a long dirt road that goes uphill for (at least) 12 miles. He suggested that I do an 'uphill tempo' on this as an alternative. I agreed. I then said 'so what pace do you think I can run it?' and he said '...probably 7 min pace or faster.' I thought to myself...huh. Really? That sounds fast. But I figured to give it a go and see what happened.

thinking 'oh shit, what have I gotten into..'

and mentally preparing here...

The run goes from our condo and takes 3 miles to the start of the dirt, but half of this is already going uphill on pavement. Then the dirt begins; the start line for 8 miles up. Derick marks every mile with flour (I guess this is a runner thing?) so, lucky me, I could see my run splits. When you're told 7 min pace and you see 8:22 on mile 1, it can be a little demoralizing. (I of course yelled at Derick when he drove by me the first time something to the effect of "7 min pace my ass!") But, I tried to suck it up and keep on running, knowing this was a strength workout, not necessarily speed. Mile 2 was more brutal as the road was both twisty and steep.
                                     

By about 2 miles in, I start to just zone out and take it as it comes. It's long, and while the environment is beautiful, it is unrelenting and simply put, my hill does not end until the 8 miles are completed; no matter how fast or slow I split each mile, there are still 8 of them. The good thing was I had done this a week earlier, so I knew what to expect and I also had previous splits to base this run off of. Thankfully, these ones were slightly faster than the previous week. Derick would leapfrog me to mark off the miles, along with Amico in the car to spectate and 'support'. Up, up, up I go.
                                      

Soon enough, I hit the 4 mile mark which was a nice sight to see...halfway! I watched for Derick around this point because previously, he had pulled the car off to let the dog play in a fairly open spot and hand me some water. However as I approached Amico's play field, the cows had decided to take it over for the day, so the poor little guy was left in the car to bark at the cows. Thankfully, they let me through the road; and looked at me like I was crazy. (smart cows!)

  

From this point on, it is kind of 'all downhill' (mentally) since I know I am down to 3+ miles to go. The air gets a little bit more thin, temps cool off a bit, but it's still about trying to stick to the best pace I can sustain while ...yes, still going up. By the time mile 6 rolls around, the terrain kicks up again and also gets a bit more rocky; which can be tough given the amount of fatigue which has accumulated by now. I'd start to see rocks up ahead of me, which appear white in the dirt, and I kept thinking they were lines of flour; but most times, they were just more rocks! I'd think "Damn, where is the flour!" I tried to not look at my watch except for the mile splits, because it kind of messes with your head if you fixate too much on the time; moreso, it's just one line of flour at a time. 

Even though the run 'only' tops out at about 9800 feet, it almost feels like I'm getting closer to the sky as I finish up the final couple of miles. And one of the best parts of this entire run is, the final 1/4 mile the terrain actually levels off and descends a bit. A nice way to finally find some leg turnover and finish it up strong!

...aaand, done. The run culminates with the view from the top and a happy Kelly; thanks to my awesome sherpa husband and of course Amico in tow to keep Derick company. This dog loves few things more than car rides (except maybe playing in the river, biting waves).

  

This run, to me, is kind of a symbolic microcosm of all of my time training here in Salida. Vastly all of what I do is on my own, solo, for 6 weeks. While most the time I relish in solo training (I feel good, I roll with it...I feel like shit, I dial it back; no added stresses of pacing off of/with someone else) I have to admit that I have had a few ups and downs. I may struggle one day to get myself out the door, but once I do, I realize why I do what I do and how much I truly love it. I've got an incredible playground here in Salida, and it's just a matter of figuring out where I'll do what on each day. Swimming is probably one of the harder things here; swimming at 7000 ft is extremely challenging, in an indoor 25-meter pool that is kept at a balmy 84F no less. There is no open water lake, or at least none actually 'in' Salida. However, like anything else... you make it work. I miss my masters group in Austin, I miss the long course meters pools...but I know that the altitude is making me stronger, and if I want to get it done, it's up to noone but me. And I have to hand it to Derick. I would have never (ever) chosen to run uphill for 11 miles and call it a 'tempo' run. I am usually pretty tied to paces; tempo means fast, and I want to see fast splits. However, in this situation, tempo means strength and even though the turnover is not there, to mentally run up a hill that lasts for 1.5 hrs is brutal; not to mention the physical challenges it brings and that it can actually make you a 'faster' runner. It requires so much fortitude and persistence, regardless of that satisfaction of seeing 'tempo pace' on my watch at each mile. One foot in front of the other, relaxed upper body, consistent breathing, keeping the effort in check...and just clicking off each line of flour. Noone around to keep me honest, noone next to me to keep me moving forward; just me. If that won't make you mentally stronger, I'm not sure what will! 

Here is a little glimpse of what tomorrow has in store...this is me riding back from Buena Vista, after climbing  up Cottonwood Pass; which tops out at 12,126 feet. When it gets tough and the legs are burning, I'll just remind myself that there are no mountains like this in Austin! It's not a bad way to spend a Saturday. Because this is the reward at the end; a natural ice bath & entertainment from Amico! 

Thanks for reading! 

                                                                         

Active MSer Feature: Beth Ulibarri

Beth is from Albuquerque, NM and was just recently diagnosed with MS. She keeps up to date on a blog to document her journey: www.milesandtrials.com. 
You can also find Beth on Twitter: @MilesAndTrials


I also want to say CONGRATS to my most recent Active MSer feature Jill Walsh, who recently finished Ironman Lake Placid; Jill, You Are An Ironman! 


Here is Beth's story, in her words.

Hi Kelly,

I have been a fan of yours since I saw you do so well at Boulder 70.3 last summer as I was there to cheer my husband on.  It was with great delight when I saw your personal interest in supporting the MS community, as I have been recently diagnosed.

My MS story started about a year ago, first with some leg tingling that I would feel after a long run (I was training for a marathon at the time), then an electric shock feeling in my rib cage, and fatigue is pretty much a constant in my life.  The tingling and numbness in my feet and legs got gradually worse in the Fall of 2011 and finally got my attention enough to get it checked out.  I thought it was simply a pinched nerve or something like that, but test after test later, I got the disturbing news that I have MS.  

That was in March of this year.  I am still adjusting to the news, but one of the first things I did was research athletes that have MS.  I have been a runner for a few years and fallen in love with running marathons, so I was hopeful that I would not have to give this passion up.  I was pleased to find many runners and triathletes who have MS that continue to train and even do amazing things like run marathons and do Ironmans!  I plan on continuing to run marathons, do the New Mexico MS 150 bike ride this summer, and possibly even do some triathlons.

I decided to start a blog (www.milesandtrials.com) to document my journey of trying to stay in shape while dealing with what MS might throw my way.  I hope that I can inspire others to not be deterred by this diagnosis and to keep moving, or start moving their bodies, because exercise is shown to be so helpful in dealing with MS.  I just completed my fifth marathon, my first one post MS diagnosis (PMS, as I like to call it!).  It was my fastest marathon so far, and I even qualified for the Boston Marathon.  I hope and pray that I can stay healthy enough to have many more marathons and triathlons in my future.  Thank you for your commitment to MS awareness and fundraising.


Keep it up Beth, and thank you for submitting your story! 
And let's keep the donations coming! Ironman Hawaii is in just 3 months, and we're almost halfway to my goal of $10,000 via MS Can Do. Please consider a donation, 
none is too small! 
https://www.gifttool.com/donations/Donate?ID=1795&AID=2044


Thanks for reading,
Kelly

Muncie 70.3: An Indiana Win!

Life is full of uncertainties. We can have the best plan of attack; and things may go right as planned for awhile. Then we hit a road bump; an unexpected detour. It’s natural to be frustrated, angry and ask questions. But it’s these times in life that force us to keep moving forward; prevent us from becoming complacent, and constantly motivate us to stay on our game and make us appreciate why we do what we do. At the time the road blocks suck, but in hindsight, think they’re an essential part of life.

 I headed to Muncie 70.3 with a fire in my belly. It was no secret that the previous race (Rev 3 Quassy) left me in the aforementioned state; confused, frustrated and with some discontent. Sure maybe I was not firing on all cylinders that day, but bottom line was I got it handed to me and I didn’t like it. That led Derick and I into talking about ‘what next’ before Muncie, and we decided upon my escaping Austin to ride my bike. The goal was open roads, lots of climbing and many miles. I landed in Henderson, Nevada and did my solo 8 day training stint, which included about 500 miles over the course of 7 days, many rides with 3000-6000+ feet of climbing. For me, this was a huge amount of cycling. I headed back to Austin, recovered, and sharpened up for Muncie 70.3. I was 2^nd in 2011, so I definitely wanted to try to move up the podium this year, but also bounce back from Quassy and find my form again.  

 When the decision was made to shorten the course (which we found out about on Friday at the Pro Meeting), understandably many of us were a bit annoyed. However upon talking to the race staff, I realized that this was purely for the safety of all involved; athletes, volunteers and spectators. In hindsight, this was the right decision. I’ve realized having been in this sport for 10+ years that people love to find things to complain about; if they had gone ahead with the full distance under nationally issued heat advisories, you know some would have said they should have shortened it. Bottom line is a race is a race; the directors are in that position for a reason; and it’s our job to race the course presented, and respect their decisions. With that attitude, I embraced it and got excited to go hard the next day. I had a bit of concern about my cycling, since I had put in all of those fairly ‘slow’ miles in Nevada; what if I didn’t have the high end power? Then I quickly said to myself “Kelly, remove head from ass and race.” Sometimes you just have to tell yourself to shut the hell up!

 We arrived at about 5:30AM for the 6:30 start and things kicked off right on time. The small women’s field (about 10-12) took off into the warm waters of Prairie Creek Reservoir (supposedly 88F!) 4 minutes after the men. I was stoked that my Zoot Ultra Speedzoot was so thin, as you really didn’t want to wear much more than a bikini in this water! I tried my best to hook in behind Jodie Swallow, who is an incredible swimmer. I got gapped a bit but was able to maintain a few meters behind her throughout the 1 mile swim and about 21 minutes later, we exited; I was pleased to see I was only about 10 seconds behind her. Good start! 

 Up the hill from swim exit and onto my QR Illicito, we headed out to the cornfields of Muncie for the 30 mile journey. I remembered this course from last year and I really liked the bike; they closed the course to traffic, which rarely ever happens, and it was fairly flat and quite fast. Being among a bunch of farmland and corn made me feel right at home (as I grew up in Zionsville, IN, just 1-2 hrs away). Jodie and I were quite evenly matched on the bike, again something I was pleased with as she’s one of the best out there on two wheels as well! I tried to break away and put a gap on her a few times, but it seemed each time I did she’d come back around me. That said, it felt good to push hard and feel so dang strong in the TT position; something that I have truly been striving to find for years. I taped over my SRM, but I felt like that high end power that I was worried about was there just fine. Every time I felt like I was letting up, I’d try to hit the gas again. It was fun knowing I could really go to the well without risking a blowup knowing that the bike was only 30 miles. Ah, another interesting part of the bike was this… I had a gel flask on my top tube (intended for the 56 mile distance) with 400 calories of Powergels. I downed the entire thing in the 1 hr 10 min on the bike! I think that my body was craving the sodium (that was also 800 mg Sodium), so I figured I’d just go with it. That gel flask along with water and I was good to go for the 10k run.

I took off out of transition and I tried to start off fairly hard. I knew that Jodie was close behind, but I also didn’t really know exactly how far back the other women were. I told myself that they were within a minute so it forced me into thinking that I had to go and go hard. About 1.5-2 miles in, the lead biker looked back and told me ‘noone in sight’ so I was able to take a breath and relax, just a bit. The run here in Muncie is not full on hard, but it is not a walk in the park either. It consists of a few rollers and not much wind, which makes it feel a bit more challenging than it may appear. It was a very nice treat to turn around after only 3 miles, and I was able to get a better view of what was going on behind me at that point. I had a good lead, however I always try to assume that people are hard charging and that I can’t let up; I have been caught at the line before and it sucks! I think it’s just a small mental trick that helps. Finally the last couple of hills approached and with a quick turn to the left, the finish was in sight! I was so happy to take the win here, as there is a bit of history with Muncie 70.3. It was my first half Ironman in 2004, so it’s an incredible feeling to, after 8 years, finally be able to win this one in my good old home state of Indiana. 

I have to give a huge thank you to my parents and family for being there to support; they were there in 2004 (even though my dad did mock me that year upon the bike exit saying “Kelly, where ya been? <chuckle>” when I came into T2) and they were here this year. My mom even informed me that this year when they heard the bikes were approaching, he said “Ooh! Well let’s count the women as they come in to see how far back Kelly is!” My mom hit him and walked away. One of the best parts of the weekend was getting to go back to their cabin in southern Indiana, unwind and do the rope swing my dad built over their lake on Sunday. Thank you to my incredible sponsors, I feel fortunate to have the best support team out there and I’m always confident in my gear, equipment and nutrition. Also thanks to the fellow pro women who raced Muncie; it was a solid field assembled and I’ve said it a million times, it’s our competitors that propel us to be our best on the day. And a huge thank you to my husband (and coach) Derick; he of course is the one who sees the ups and downs in raw form, and he always keeps me even keel mentally and emotionally; but he also is constantly helping me push myself a little beyond what I may think is possible. Without him, I’d not be where I am today.
                                       

It’s one thing to hit ‘hot streak’ and find a groove, win races, and feel (if even a little) invincible. It’s nice to say that after many years at this, I think that I’ve at times found this ‘groove’ the past few of years. That said, I think it’s invaluable to get knocked down at times as well. It forces us to re-evaluate, dig deeper and remember that on any given day, anything can happen. Past results don’t mean anything when we toe the line; it’s always about US making it HAPPEN on the DAY. This win is a little bit sweeter given that I felt like I overcame some questions and doubts the past few weeks. Next up is a few weeks in Salida, Colorado, our little training escape and then it’s a big few races: HyVee, Vegas 70.3 and Kona. It’s nice to take a little confidence into this training stint.

Thank you for your support & see you out there!

Active MSer Feature: Jill Walsh

Jill Walsh, Active MSer,  is in the process of training for Ironman Lake Placid.
Here is her story, in her words.

Please consider a donation to my Can Do MS Fund, which culminates in my Ironman World Championship race on October 13, 2012. Help support all of those living, training, and competing with Multiple Sclerosis. My goal is $10,000 and we are almost halfway there! Every bit helps!

Best of luck to Jill on July 22nd; soon, you will hear "Jill, You Are an Ironman!"
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As I started to write my story, I realized it was going in an unexpected direction. 
Here it is.

I have been physically active my whole life. A year and a half ago I was 48 years old, still playing soccer twice a week, running most other days, and training for my first ½ Ironman. I started to suffer from vertigo, dizziness, and balance issues. I thought it was due to overtraining.

Fast forward to today, and I still have bouts with vertigo, dizziness, and balance issues, and have added foot drop and left arm weakness to my growing collection of issues I am learning to navigate with.

I have M.S., and am training for Ironman Lake Placid on July 22, 2012—just a few weeks from now. All I can think about is, “When is I all of this training going to be over? I’m tired”. But when I start to reflect on my M.S. Ironman journey, I realize it’s not really about me; it’s a lot more than that. Regardless of what reads after my name in the race results: a time or DNF (but hopefully not a DNF), my journey has taken a village—my village.

My husband should be sainted, and my three teen-aged kids should be rewarded for being abandoned for my training schedule. Hopefully, there will be, “Go Mom,” posters along the course.

My coach, Brandi (an Ironman, herself), who would say—no matter how much I whined, “It’s supposed to be hard. You will be an Ironman!”

My physician, John (also an Ironman), thinks it might have been foolish for me to have entered,  said that if it is what I want to do, he will help me any way he can to get to the finish line. He did have to add, “But the run it won’t be pretty”.  Ugh.

The brace maker Jim, he is my new BFF. He has been very patient and helpful through the many adjustments to my two braces. I now have a magic biking shoe and a magic running shoe! Both braces are working well to keep my foot where it was meant to be, regardless of M.S.’ opinion on the matter! He is looking forward to hearing about my Ironman experience with his artwork.

Jeremy, the bike shop guy: After I told him I didn’t have enough strength in my left hand to safely brake, he found and installed a part that allows me to now brake both wheels using only my right hand – it took a few patient adjustments.

My favorite running shoe store (Fleet Feet!):  Can’t say enough good things about all those guys! This shoe, that shoe, mismatched sizes to fit my brace (Yes, you can buy mismatched pairs).
All my old friends and new training partners: Well, I will start to cry if I go into how that have helped, encouraged, and supported me along this journey.

Yup, it takes a village. We all belong to one, and I am glad. Now my hope is – after what I know will be a long day for me—to hear the voice of Mike Riley: “Jill, you are an Ironman!”

Three Things I Learned in Vegas

I’ve never been one to jump much on the idea of ‘training trips’. We re-locate for about 6 weeks each summer to Colorado, but that is simply because the oppressive summers make it very difficult to put in the ‘big’ miles for Ironman. The majority of the year, living in Austin, I’m in a perfect location to do all I need to do for my job. Sure it gets hot, so I start my rides or runs early, or move a run indoors to the treadmill. I swim with one of the best Masters teams in the country (though I may be a little biased). The cycling may entail a lot of stop and go at times, but you deal with it. I figure no place is perfect; you do the best with what you’ve got. And of course, it is where my husband and my ‘kids’ (dog and cat) are. Given all the travel I do for racing, I’d just as well be at home as much as I can.

That said, Derick and I agreed that after Rev 3 Quassy, it would be nice for me to escape the heat a bit and get in a good little ‘cycling block’ (something else I had never done). So after a few rest days, I was off to Henderson, Nevada. Why Henderson? It is the site of Vegas 70.3 World Champs in September, and an opportunity came up whereby I could stay at the Westin Lake Las Vegas, right where the swim takes place and the bike starts. I made my plans and began to tirelessly research the road riding in Henderson. It seemed to be an amazing place to ride a bike, but going there alone, and planning to ride 90-100 miles a day for a week straight definitely was a little bit daunting. I tried to embrace the adventure and realized that while it may be a little lonely at times, I’d be keeping myself busy enough (and tired enough) to be able to savor the solo downtime. (I later realized that I would not be escaping the heat at all, just exchanging hot and humid for hot and dry!). 

Returning from the trip, I can look back and realize that the goal was accomplished. I don’t talk much about my training, but this was a great week in Henderson. I ended up riding 500 miles over 5 days (with 2 rest days) and I also logged my longest ride to date, 120 miles, which took me all the way out to Overton, NV (with 110 of those miles being on the same road!). Swimming and running were sprinkled in there a bit but the focus was cycling, and while I may not have crushed all these rides, I did them and I can take a lot of confidence in this. There is something very empowering about going somewhere that you know no one, and riding roads you have never seen before; I was by no means camping in a foreign country, but the trip carried some uncertainties and it felt good to embrace them. 

Which brings me to the purpose of my post, “The Three Things I Learned in Vegas”. Yes I was technically in Henderson, but ‘Vegas’ sounds better. Surely I learned more than just three things, but when you have countless hours with you and the thoughts in your head, you find certain thoughts keep coming back to you. So off we go. 

1) Do what scares you. What scares me? Long bike rides. Yeah, strange isn’t it? It has been something that has always intimidated me, ever since I started triathlon. Think about it. Only on a long bike ride can you pedal your way to 50, 60+ miles from your original spot. A lot can happen out there. Flat tires, mechanicals, etc; but what has always scared me most about long rides is the bonk. Bonking on a long ride is far more dangerous than a swim bonk or a run bonk (of which I don’t think I have ever encountered either one).  A bonk on a long ride results in suddenly feeling dizzy, light-headed, and usually comes on strong very quickly. It is the lack of focus it brings that really freaks me out. I don’t like not being in control, and that feeling is very scary when it’s just you at the helm on two very skinny tires often going 15-25+ mph. I guess you could say the fear of the bonk is why I am pretty good at downing calories on rides, 200-300 per hour, and up to 400 per hour on the bike in an Ironman. I have always been a bit afraid of huge rides (100+ miles) and I’ve often been known to stick closer to home in case I need to bail. I think this trip showed me that I can do these, even on tired legs; I was able to tackle the 120 miler on my 2^nd to last day there, albeit after a rest day, and while it was a little scary to head out to a town I’d never been to, with literally 40 miles between fuel stops, I did it. That feels good. To recognize what your fears are, no matter if they seem silly or legit, will allow you to accept them, and then work to tackle them. Empowering!

2) There is no time for emotion when racing. Where on earth would I have come up with this one? I was there training, not racing. On my final day, I opted to head to the run course and run two loops of it (just under 9 miles); first loop steady, second loop ‘hard’. I am not really one for ‘visualization’, however since I was out there, I tried to play out the various scenarios that Vegas 70.3 may hold. I always love the run segment of races, and this course really hands it to you; you are either going up, or down; albeit gradual hills, they are hills nonetheless. I was finishing up the final stretch, a long downhill segment, and I was thinking ‘what if you are winning right now come race day? How cool would that be?’ then I thought ‘or maybe you’re trying to catch someone up ahead, right there; you can see her but she’s running strong, and so are you; damnit it hurts and I can’t go any faster!…’ or maybe it would be ‘you’re holding steady Kelly but she’s right there behind you. Keep on the gas, only ½ more mile…’ I then remembered back a few years when I used to often wave or smile at my parents mid-race, feeling like a rockstar, only to crumble minutes later and come hobbling home. I came to the realization that, when racing, there is no time for emotion (at least for myself). The minute that emotion starts to creep into your race, I have found a few things can happen. Excitement can get the best of you and you start to think about ‘the finish’, when it’s not yet there; you get ahead of yourself. Another thing that can happen from too much emotion is feeling sorry for yourself, which never does us any good, in any circumstance, much less in a race when we’re physically, mentally and emotionally pushing ourselves. Now don’t me wrong, it is not a bad thing to remind yourself how hard you’ve worked and you’re not going to let this one get away from you… but the ultimate focus has to remain process-oriented. Nutrition, pacing, hydration…one step in front of the other, one mile at a time…are you going hard enough? Can you go harder? Should you dial it back? Long and the short of it is, if there is one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that if you have a big goal for a race, you’re best served by trying to maintain a focus the entire race; as we all know, it’s not over until you cross that finish line (or at the very least, you can see it within your sights!). It’s good to be reminded of this.  

3) Learn to spend time alone. In college, I used to love to go out to dinner solo. My place of choice was Texas Roadhouse. I would walk in and hop up to the bar where I’d order a peach margarita, eat peanuts and then order a huge grilled chicken salad. I’d watch people; I may chat w/ a bartender; and I even made friends with a cute little old man, who came in even more frequently than I did (shocking); he even had his own coffee mug at the bar. One day, I came in and I found out that he rarely came to the bar anymore because he had ‘met a lady’; that was good news. I would look forward to these solo dinner outings. My friends told me “Kelly, you shouldn’t do that; it looks like you just want to hook up.” I’d say “Really? Because I am wearing jeans or a long denim skirt, or some hippy looking skirt. I don’t really exude that vibe.” Maybe I enjoy the fact that it’s something that you are ‘not supposed to do’, but in my opinion, why not? It’s refreshing to sit down in a public place and just be with yourself; watch people. It’s good for the soul. 

In Henderson, my days looked something like this:  Wake up at 4:45, eat breakfast, drink coffee, and head out the door at 5:30. The next 5-7 hours were spent on my bike. I wasn’t totally solo, I had my musical friends in my right ear; but predominantly, it was just me and my thoughts. And for some odd reason, I really never got bored. If anything, I’d get bored moreso in my hotel room at times; but even then, I would come back, lay down on the floor and recover for about 10 minutes, eat, then sit in my Recovery Pump boots on the bed with mindless TV in the background; check up on emails; drink more coffee. I may read my book. Call someone. But all in all, it was pretty peaceful. If I started to go stir crazy or I had an easy day to ensue, I’d venture ‘out of room’ to one of the restaurants and have a beer, order food, and read my book along with more people watching. Point being… racing triathlons (especially those in the range of 4-17 hours in duration) is not a terribly exciting, stimulating endeavor. It’s a hell of a lot of time with you, yourself and your own head. It is a very valuable thing to be comfortable spending that time with yourself, knowing what kinds of thoughts may come up; and with regards to training (or racing),  knowing how to combat the negative ones. No matter what happens in life, you always have ‘you’ (we’re kind of stuck with ourselves) so you better know how to be comfortable with that person. 

So that wraps up the Three Things I Learned in Vegas. Here are a few pictures of my trip, including the amazing lake where I finished most of my days, some of the food I enjoyed and many of the endless roads I bonded with. I will admit, while it was a great trip, it’s good to be home! I missed my husband, my cat and dog, and of course the Mexican food. Some things I’m not willing to give up for long!

Swim Venue (Lake Las Vegas)

Road out of Overton, Nevada

Burger night (& a beer)

Laundry Day <roughing it!>

Salad & Pasta night (& a beer)

Rode with a camelbak every day

View from Goodsprings, an old ghost town

Northshore Road; we did a lot of bonding

View from Boulder City, 'The City that Built Hoover Dam'

 

 

 

Packing up & enjoying a Tenaya Creek IPA - After 500 miles I earned it! :)

Active MSers Feature: Alain Virlouvet

In continuing with my fundraising efforts through Can Do Multiple Sclerosis , I have reached out to the ActiveMSers community to receive various stories of individuals who are living with, and staying active despite of, multiple sclerosis. I have received so many incredible stories of people who are deciding to take action to live the best life they possibly can; so thank you to all of you who have submitted your stories, I will continue to post them in the coming months.

Please check out my personal fundraising efforts through Can Do MS. My goal is $10K by October; we are almost halfway there, every little bit helps! Please spread the word.

Here is Alain Virlouvet's story. Alain happens to be a fellow Texan! He lives near Austin in the town of Brenham, which is the the hometown of Bluebell Ice Cream. I have to say, my husband and I definitely support the economy of his town through our ice cream consumption! A big thank you to Alain for allowing us to read his personal story, and best of luck to him with the MS 150 Bike San Antonio this October. In Alain's words:

"Thank you for helping the MS cause.  Here is my story that I hope will help in your fund raising efforts.

    In 2009 at the age of 62 and out of nowhere, I started experiencing extreme fatigue, vertigo, dizziness, balance issues and that tight constricting feeling in the mid-section of my body that is known as the “MS hug”.  Finally, after 4 months of seeing different doctors and all the tests, I was diagnosed with Relapsing/Remitting MS and started treatment on Betaseron.  One year on Betaseron resulted in elevated liver levels so my medication was changed in late 2010 to Copaxone, and I have done quite well on this medication.

    It took me about a year to accept and adjust to my new life.  I decided to help myself as much as possible to slow down this monster MS.  I had been doing yoga and meditation for some years and have continued both as I’m certain they are a big help.  I was walking every day, but that became laborious and not much fun, so a year ago I started riding my bike.  And to my surprise I found that I felt absolutely no handicap while riding my bike.  So I had found my new love!  I am now riding about 80-100 miles per week and last October I did my first MS 150 in San Antonio.  I plan to do it again this year and will try to do the 100 mile course.

    Since I’ve been riding I have seen an improvement with fatigue, cognition fog, dizziness and just overall wellness.  I feel that I’m lucky (if you can say that about an MS patient) in that my diagnosis came later in my life.  Each MS patient’s progression and symptoms are different, but I like to believe that with my Copaxone treatment in addition to the yoga, meditation, vitamin D, vegetarian diet and regular cycling have helped at the least to keep me stable and possibly may even be slowing down the progression.

I hope this has helped and again your support of MS patients is deeply appreciated.

I wish you all the best with your races.

Alain

Rev 3 Quassy: Some Days are Diamonds, Some Days are Stone

If there is one 'fear' that I have before any race, it is the unknown of if my body will give me what I want it to on the day. Nerves I can deal with. Anxiety will always be there. I know I prepare the best I can, do all the right things, take adequate rest, and stay off my legs the day prior...but despite all these things, there is always that question mark of, even though I know I am 'ready', will the legs be there when I need them? As with nerves, I try to push this worry aside since it is out of my control, and most times it is a non-issue. This past weekend, unfortunately, it was 'the' issue.

I went into Rev 3 Quassy rested. I dialed the training back just a bit more than my previous races, as I knew this would be the most quality field I had yet raced, not to mention the largest prize purse and the most challenging course thus far for 2012. I did all the things I knew I needed to do. We arrived Friday, and awoke Saturday to a cool rainy day, perfect for a long sleep in and not too much activity. All seemed on par, except for little bit of a talking stomach. I skipped breakfast (also due to the fact that we slept until 9am, a full 11 hours of sleep!), did a light swim at the hotel pool and had my breakfast for lunch; probably not ideal, but not a big deal. At the pro meeting, I felt tired. I recall shutting my eyes a few times. Not totally like me. Dinner was at a local Italian place, and I picked at my pasta dish. Again, not like me; even if my appetite wanes, I eat. It's fuel and I know I need it. I got back to our room at 7 and was in bed and asleep by 7:30. Again not like me. I tried to write it off as my body just needed rest and I'd feel great come race morning; but, I'd be lying if I didn't say that I knew this was atypical. I love to race, and I get very excited to race. This didn't seem quite normal.

I woke up, ate my usual breakfast, and laid back down at 5am. (We were set to leave then and I am pretty anal when it comes to race morning arrival). I was just so damn tired. But again; nothing major was happening. A gurgly stomach, a lack of appetite and some fatigue. Big deal. We headed out the door, it was a beautiful cool morning and the sun was about to rise. This is an incredible locale to race; hilly, green, and a clear clean lake to swim in; my favorite. But the energy was just not there and it was pissing me off to say the least.

I of course debated starting or not, but the decision is much tougher to make when you have no viable 'excuse'. I was not violently ill, I just didn't feel quite right. Really, who can not toe the line because of that? To me, that was an awful reason. We won't always feel great on race day and we all know we can still have great performances. When the gun goes off, I go into a mode that I simply cannot find otherwise. I just tried to roll with it. The swim kicked off and I managed to get right into the lead along with Laurel Wassner, and we swam great together; truly my favorite kind of swim in a clear lake surrounded by lush green trees. Picture perfect! I tried to take momentum from the fact that she and I were leading the swim; maybe this would turn out to be a great day and surprise me a bit.

Onto the bike and it was cold! A 50+ degree morning meant chilly temps to start the bike, but I tried to appreciate the fact that I was out here doing what I loved and work harder to warm up. There is not much warming up on this course, as you are hit with the big hills right off the bat. I hammered up them only to get passed by a few women in the first few miles. No big deal, I'll come around, I told myself. About 1 hour into the bike, I realized that there was no coming around. I was taking a bit less calories because I was worried the stomach may go south. I started to push them more mid-way, but there was nothing in the tank. I realized that it was going to be a day like this; a day like I had imagined was going to happen, but I had 'hoped' wouldn't. By mile 20 I wanted it to end. By mile 30, I'd moved further back. Each time I got passed, there was no desire (or ability) to try to keep that woman in sight. It pissed me off, but I knew there was nothing I could do; today the body was just not giving me what I wanted.

The end of the bike could not come soon enough, and when it did, I had moved well back through most of the field, after exiting the water first. I felt extremely dejected and I knew I was at least 10 minutes behind the lead women. I figured what did I have to lose; hell, go for the best run split! Maybe that would feel good. Off I went like a bat out of hell, and did what I could to make up any time possible. I passed Derick at about mile 10 or 11 and I recall saying "how far up?" and he said "to the lead?" and I said "to anyone!" That right there about says it all! I just wanted to claw my way back, but I'd be damned if I quit. It was the easy thing to do, and my body had wanted to for the past 50 miles of the race. I ran and I ran and I ran, and when it hurt, I tried to run harder. The rhythm felt decent, but I knew that no matter how hard or fast I ran, I'd likely not be in the mix today. I finished in for 6th place, and I cannot tell you how much harder that 6th place was for me to get than any of the wins I have managed this season.

I've had a few comments from people like "ah, we all have shit races." It's true. I have told myself, that's life. Life isn't easy, it isn't fair and you sure as hell cannot win them all. But that doesn't mean that it didn't upset me. I thought I was being too hard on myself, but Derick wisely pointed out, "Kelly you are upset because this means something to you...that is OK..." The frustrating part for me was that some of the best 70.3 women were here, and I wanted nothing more than to see how I measured up against them; toe to toe. How did I measure up? They spanked me, hard. That stings. But, after a few days, I have come to realize, I feel as though in a strange way, I needed this race. I knew that it could be ugly, and it was, but isn't that racing? Every time we step up, we put ourselves on the line. We'll either succeed brilliantly, or we'll fail miserably  (or of course fall somewhere in between). That is part of it. It is nerve-wracking, it's scary, and especially if we have doubts, it's even more daunting. But how do we learn how deep we can dig if we quit or even fail to start? I knew if I had pulled out just because 'I had doubts', I would never be able to forgive myself. So, I stepped up, and I got it handed to me; but that was all I had, on the day, period. And I had no choice but to accept it and move forward. You have two choices: you can let a crap result define you, or you can let it motivate you. I am trying to do the latter.

I've said it numerous times. The mental fortitude it takes to finish on these days is exponentially greater than on the days you win, no matter how hard you have to dig on those days! When you feel good, you have adrenaline...you're pushing and your body is letting you...you are in that zone, even if it hurts like hell. On these days, you go through mental battles constantly "I want to quit. But I can't quit. But my result will be shit. But that's ok, you're human. But people expect me to win. But that's not realistic all the time. But I want to win, I am here to win. No, I am here to give it my best" etc etc. If not for days like this, we'd never realize how great it is when it all comes together. I gave it all I had, and for that, I am proud of the effort. On this day, it was all Mirinda, Heather Wurtele and Angela, who were all stellar; they deserved the podium and fought hard for it. Thank you the hard-working Rev 3 crew, who put on an awesome event as they always do; to my sponsors and Derick, who both support me endlessly through the ups and downs, and my mom who allowed me to cry my eyes out to her post-race (we can only do that to our moms, right?!). I think I have learned more about myself from this race than I have any race thus far this season. So on that note, let's raise a beer to the character-building races!


Thanks for reading, see y'all in Muncie.